


Strong Yet Screaming

by F00PY



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Good Draco, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapped Draco, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Narcissa Black Malfoy is a Good Parent, Worried Harry, drarry oneshot, tortured draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F00PY/pseuds/F00PY
Summary: Draco and Harry have kept their relationship secret since 4th grade but when Draco is branded with the Dark Mark he is unable to keep quiet anymore. After making nice with the Order, Draco is accepted into their ranks and the summer after Dumbledore dies, is even allowed to participate in moving Harry from the Dursley's home. He partners up with Mad-Eye, but when the Auror dies and Mundungus apparates away, Draco is taken by the Death Eaters and leaves his friends behind to try and get him back.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 313





	Strong Yet Screaming

Nobody in the Burrow seemed to know what to say to him. Not even Mrs. Weasley, who Harry had come to depend on for comfort, was attempting to calm him down.  
  
Or maybe she was. A lot of his friend's mouths looked like they were moving; perhaps they were trying to weave a blanket of warmth, create something to steady him. If they were, he couldn't hear them. Harry couldn't hear anything other than the pounding in his head. Ringing: there was also ringing. Not the sweet kind of ringing, like bells Harry knew he would be hearing at Bill and Fleur's wedding, but rather an almost screeching noise, a never-ending angry screaming that rang and…  
  
Somebody was touching him. It didn't matter who, the hands were too big, too scarred, too dark to be the hands he wanted them to be. They gripped his shoulders, tight enough that Harry should have felt pain, but all he could feel was a pounding. It took him a second to realize the pounding was his own heart.  
  
The person holding him was making him walk. Harry still didn't know who it was, who steered him into the house, who placed him gently on the couch. The same hands pressed a drink into his hand: Harry took the cool glass, staring at the amber liquid within.  
  
The ringing had quieted slightly. Enough that he could hear a voice calling his name.  
  
It wasn't the owner of the hands. No, this voice was delicate, gentle, female; young. The hands had been much older than this voice, much too big to be anything other than male.  
  
It didn't matter. Neither person was the right one.  
  
They weren’t calling his name anymore, but the same person lay a hand on his arm. At least, Harry thought it was the same person. It felt just as delicate and gentle as the voice had sounded. It still wasn't right.  
  
"... want him alive?"  
  
Harry stirred at that. His eyes fell on the ginger that had spoken. Ron looked drawn. His face was two shades too pale and he gripped his own glass cup, knuckles so tight around it Harry was shocked they hadn't come off yet.  
  
"I assume," a male voice thundered above him, "they wish to use him against Harry."  
  
The voice was large, dark, scarred. Harry didn't have to look at Lupin's hands to know he had been the one that steered him here.  
  
"How?" Hermione asked next to him, hand still gentle on his arm. "All we know is they have him, we can’t get to him and they certainly don't know where we are-"  
  
"Harry and Voldemort share a connection." Remus drowned his cup in one gulp, already reaching for a bottle next to him, full of the same amber liquid. "He'll use that to let Harry know Mr. Malfoy's-" Lupin's voice broke, not because of his own emotions, but thanks to the rather large bang as one of Mrs. Weasley's poorly made vases literally exploded. Several people in their company gasped. Hermione's hand clenched rather tightly around Harry's arm. This time, Harry felt the stab of pain.  
  
Bill walked up to it, tapping his wand against one of the shattered pieces and murmuring " _reparo._ " The vase melded itself back together as if it had never been broken to begin with.  
  
Remus looked over at him. He opened his mouth, probably to offer some words of comfort now that Harry was allowing himself to listen, but Hermione spoke first.  
  
"He's not dead," she promised, meeting his green eyes. Harry locked onto her brown ones, hardly able to breathe. "He's alive."  
  
"They're going to-" Harry's voice broke. He could feel the emotions he had so delicately hid behind that ringing beginning to surge out and he suddenly wanted the ringing back.  
  
"They're going to torture him," Remus said quietly and the final barrier Harry had set up came crashing down. He let out a sob and the vase Bill had just repaired splintered to the ground, quickly joined by several other random ornaments Mrs. Weasley had put up around the room.  
  
No one sighed their annoyance; Ron actually looked like he might smash a couple the muggle way. Hermione's hands clenched tighter around his arm. It was a wonder Harry could still manage to move his left hand, let alone feel it.  
  
"We'll get him back," Hermione whispered but to Harry it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than him.  
  
Harry stood, ripping his arm from Hermione's deathlike grasp, the couch suddenly too small. He began to pace back and forth along the Weasley's carpet. No one spoke.  
  
"Where are they keeping him?" He looked up, staring Remus in the eyes. The moment his question was done, Harry looked back at the carpet. He wasn't able to hold that face, with the scars that decorated it and soon, he knew, might decorate his boyfriend.  
  
"Intel, logic and a small bit of guesswork says Malfoy Manor," Lupin replied. If he knew why Harry couldn't hold his gaze, his voice didn't show it. "But as it's warded against us-"  
  
"Do you know where it is?" Harry's head shot up and down again like he was a mole in one of those muggle arcade games.  
  
Silence greeted him. Mr. Weasley's heavy voice finally broke it, eyeing Harry up and down the way you might watch a bomb without a timer. "It would not be wise for you to go."  
  
"Not be wise?" Harry spat. "If it were Mrs. Weasley would it be wise?! Or if it were Tonks?" He turned to spit at Lupin, who appeared to have expected this. "I am not leaving my boyfriend with a bunch of Death Eaters and Voldemort!"  
  
"Mate," Ron said, spinning the glass in his hand. "You can't go after him."  
  
Harry spun on Ron. "The hell I can't. If it were Hermione-"  
  
"What would Draco want, Harry?" Hermione interrupted desperately, leaping off the couch and placing herself directly in the away of his pacing. "Would he want you to go after him if he knew it would put you in the direct line of danger? Not to mention if something were to go wrong and you were to be killed without getting Draco out, what use would Voldemort have for him then?"  
  
Harry's eyes had gone blank but try as he might he could not seem to summon what would've been blissful ringing.  
  
"He would kill him, Harry." Tears shone brightly in Hermione's eyes. He stared as one managed to break free and trail its way down her face, suddenly realizing that his own face was wet as well. Harry touched a hand to his face, wondering how long he had been crying.  
  
He had been so wrapped up in his fury he hadn't even realized it.  
  
"Your life- your being out of V-Voldemort’s reach- is the only reason he's not dead," Hermione said quietly, brushing her tears away.  
  
"I can't-" Harry's voice broke. "I need him. I need him back. I need him to be safe. I just-"  
  
"He's a Death Eater mate." Fred's voice came from the couch and without warning, Harry had his wand out, pointing furiously at the male. Fred put his hands up slowly. "Calm down, Harry. I just meant that they might take it easy on him."  
  
"He is not-" Harry began to growl, but Hermione cut in.  
  
"Draco isn't a Death Eater." She pushed Harry's wand down but the look she was giving Fred was stronger than any hex Harry could have delivered. "He took the mark to save several muggle children Voldemort was hurting. He was in love with Harry far before that and friends with us soon after."  
  
"Sorry," Fred said, looking more baffled than anything. "I really didn't mean to be offensive I just-"  
  
"Just don't," Ron interrupted. "Harry, we'll get Draco back. But you can't be part of the group that does it."  
  
That made several people look up. Mr. Weasley seemed to be pondering what Ron had delivered and Hermione looked mildly impressed.  
  
"What?" Ginny asked, somewhat shrilly. "But everyone just got back safe!"  
  
Harry ignored her. He met Ron's unblinking determined gaze and a surge of relief brushed through all the horror slugging through him. "Now?"  
  
Bill had the decency to look regretful. "We need to plan. We can't just go charging in. Besides everyone is exhausted. If we were to go out now we'd just be slaughtered."  
  
For a second, Harry wondered how fast he would have to apparate to manage to make it to the Manor without any of them stopping him.  
  
"You won't be fast enough." Lupin placed his empty glass on the table for the third time. "And as Ron so smartly put you won't be able to go. You’re unable to use magic."  
  
Harry sat back on the couch, head falling in between his shoulders. "When can we start?"  
  
"Tomorrow," Lupin said grimly. "I'll be here to help in the morning."  
  
…  
  
Snape had watched his godson scream under the Cruciatus curse for the past 5 hours. It took all of his control, every ounce of every skill he had learned spying for Dumbledore the past years to keep attempting to kill the Dark Lord right then and there.  
  
Twice, he had actually reached for his wand. It had been moments of weakness, not just on his behalf but on the behalf of the screaming blond lying below him. Moments Snape could've sworn that Draco was about to relent and give the Dark Lord what he wanted until the blond had merely turned and spat at Voldemort, spit mixing with the blood his own screams had ripped from him and landing pink on his black robe.  
  
"Where is Harry Potter?" Voldemort hissed, lifting his wand from his godson's flailing body. Draco lay still, taking those few moments to simply breathe. Somewhere within him, the boy found the strength to turn his head and face the Dark Lord. Snape would have marveled at it if it wasn't so ridiculously stupid of him in the first place. It was one thing not to give up Potter's location; it was another entirely to try and edge on the man torturing him. But then, Draco had always acted like an overgrown petty child.  
  
"Your obsession with him is kind of concerning," Draco croaked. "He's underage and you're like 70 years-"  
  
"Crucio."  
  
Draco screamed. On the couch next to him, Lucius appeared to lean forward, almost delighting in the boys' torture. Snape once again had to resist the urge to go for his wand and this time he didn't even have any signs of weakness from the boy to blame it on. It was his own feelings for his godson that nearly had Lucius flying across his living room and splattering on the wall opposite him. Although Snape supposed, as the Dark Lord lifted his wand once more, he could also blame Lucius for his hatred of his own son.  
  
"Do not play games with me Draco." Voldemort's voice came out as a hiss. "For the Dark Lord doesn't lose."  
  
"Neither does the Draco."  
  
Snape would've laughed if it hadn't been so remarkably stupid of the boy.  
  
Voldemort turned his wand back to Draco, almost lazily. "Crucio."  
  
Once again his godson's screams hit the air. At the hollowed look in Malfoy's eyes, at the way his arms flailed in a way to protect himself, Snape couldn't take it anymore. If he couldn't stop Draco's torture, he needed an ending. Needed to know if it would end with more death. As cautiously and quietly as Snape could, he allowed himself into the Dark Lord's mind.  
  
It wasn't as dark as he had been expected. There was no fortress, no walls to keep him out. In fact, although Snape had never once dared to enter before, the place felt rather familiar.  
  
His knee banged against the rather expensive coffee table when he figured it out. Hastily, he pulled his head from Voldemort's as every person in the room: Voldemort, Lucius, Bellatrix, Greyback and of course, Draco himself, turned to look at him. Draco seemed to be taking the distraction as a moment to calm himself, prepare himself for the hours yet to come. Smart, Snape thought grudgingly, even as he tried to come up with a reason for his sudden display.  
  
He couldn't very well say, "I went into your mind and noticed that Potter happened to be sharing your headspace." Not only would that lead to his thrashing on the ground next to his godson, Voldemort would also attempt to take it up a notch on Draco, knowing that Potter was aware of everything happening. He would delight in it.  
  
What came out of his mouth was almost worse. "While impressive, my lord, the boy seems to have learned how to deal with that particular curse. I believe it might be arbitrary, but have you tried the Legilimency Spell recently? Due to the breaking you have accomplished, his walls may have weakened from the beginning."  
  
The Dark Lord appeared to pause. He nodded slightly, lifted his wand and let it land on Draco once again. "Legilimens."  
  
Draco's face didn't change as he met the red eyes standing above him. Voldemort's face actually screwed up in concentration and Snape swore he saw a bead of sweat trickle down his white skull.  
  
Voldemort pulled up his wand. He didn't even bother to explain before placing Draco under the Cruciatus curse and sending the boy thrashing against himself.  
  
Bellatrix had been laughing earlier; she didn't dare laugh now, not at the look of hot fury everyone could see burning in the Dark Lord's eyes. It wasn’t every day he came across someone that could keep him out of his head. Truthfully, Snape didn't believe Voldemort had ever come across someone he couldn't wear down but after 5 hours and still no cracking, even he was beginning to wonder if the Dark Lord had met his match.  
  
Not, he reminded himself, that Draco was his match. Draco was a poor idiotic boy who happened to be very good at Occlumency.  
  
Voldemort lifted his wand and Draco didn’t stir, eyes pressed together. “Well Draco,” Voldemort said softly, hints of amusement cutting apart all that fury, “Nothing to say?”  
  
To Snape’s internal shock, Draco managed to move his arm just enough to hold up a single finger. The amusement drifted from the Dark Lord’s eyes as he took in the meaning behind that finger.  
  
_One second._  
  
Voldemort didn’t even bother to give him that as he sent Draco screaming again.  
  
“Where is Harry Potter?” he hissed, seeming to get back on track. Over the past 5 hours, Draco had managed to distract Voldemort from his purpose an average of twice an hour and if Snape didn’t know any better he’d say he was doing it on purpose.  
  
Draco panted as the wand was lifted again. Snape hid his wince at the small whimpers not even the blond’s pride was able to keep from sliding over his lips.  
  
Voldemort knelt next to the boy and let his wand trail down his sweaty pale cheek. Licking his lips, Draco eyed him, fingers twitching. Lucius tracked the movement, pupils dilating slightly as he took in his son’s pathetic form.  
  
“Tell me where Harry Potter is.”  
  
“England.” Draco’s voice cracked, but it did nothing to hide the strength coursing in each syllable. “Maybe France. Could be Russia. Sweden would work-”  
  
He was sent thrashing and screaming again and Voldemort stood, keeping his wand fixed on the boy.  
  
Silently, Snape brushed against Voldemort’s mind. Harry was still there, forced to be a silent bystander in this. And if Snape knew Potter, which, unfortunately, he did, Potter wouldn’t be able to handle leaving Draco with the Death Eaters for another day. Truthfully, it was a miracle the boy hadn’t already broken down the door and led both himself and his godson to an early grave. Which meant he was going to be running to save the squirming blond soon. Tomorrow at worst, the day after at best.  
  
“Bellatrix,” Voldemort said softly, raising his wand from Draco. “Perhaps you would like a turn with the Malfoy son? He is, after all, the reason your sister is no longer with us.”  
  
At the mention of his mother, Draco flinched. It was barely noticeable- Snape was actually surprised the boy could move at all- but he watched Draco’s eyes fall on Lucius who appeared to be gripping his knee with some kind of fascination.  
  
Around a year ago, Draco had been tasked with killing Dumbledore. Should he fail, the Dark Lord would’ve taken his mother’s life in the headmaster’s stead. After the boy had taken the mark, he had been planning on killing himself, to keep his mother safe and to ensure that Potter would never find out he was a marked Death Eater. Draco thought that the boy would see it as a betrayal.  
  
Which in itself was rather ridiculous. Potter was nothing if not stupidly trusting.  
  
Snape had managed to stop him just in time. He still had nightmares about his godson standing next to what could only be Death potion, a glass of pure black liquid in his hand. It had taken him hours to talk the boy down, and another 30 to destroy any remains of that liquid in case Draco chose to go behind his back and complete his plan anyway.  
  
They hadn’t had a plan when they arrived at the train. Perhaps that was why, rather than keeping their relationship a secret like they had done so carefully for the last two years, Draco had actually hugged Potter when he arrived and broke down into tears.  
  
And while Snape might not have had a plan after three weeks of trying, Potter was able to come up with one on the spot. Once Dumbledore knew, it was a matter of minutes before Narcissa had been moved to her sister’s house. Lucius hadn’t seen his wife since- and this was the first time he had seen his son since the summer before.  
  
“My Lord.” Bellatrix stood immediately, bowing at Voldemort before making her way around the coffee table. “You are too kind.”  
  
She didn’t cast the Cruciatus curse like he had been expecting. Instead, she leaned over and using her wand like a knife, began to carve into his godson’s arm, right above the ugly black mark that had changed everything last summer.  
  
Or rather, the lack of black mark. The boy seemed to have taken matters into his own hand and had literally skinned himself free of it. And while Snape knew it would grow back, it was certainly a valiant effort to keep from being tracked.  
  
One that worked too.  
  
Snape forced himself to watch as Draco’s eyes squeezed shut and he whimpered, just managing to keep his screams inside. Bellatrix laughed at the expression on his face, as his already weak muscles were forced to tighten as she pushed deeper. Draco let out a weak gasp, clearly trying to keep from screaming.  
  
The effort was admirable. Also unnecessary, since all five of them had been listening to his screaming for the past- Snape glanced at the clock- now five hours and twenty minutes.  
  
To distract himself, Snape felt up against the Dark Lord’s mind once more. This time, there was no easy opening, no light. It was like jumping off a cliff and landing into ice water, right before smacking against a rock you didn’t notice when considering making the plunge. Any familiarity was gone.  
  
Potter was no longer watching.  
  
…  
  
Remus would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have second thoughts about launching an attack to save Draco. They had just lost one of their best fighters- namely Mad-Eye- and couldn’t use several of their others, like Kingsley, who had to stay and watch the Muggle Prime Minister. At the moment, there were only six of them, all standing around the Weasely’s kitchen table, hunched over a map.  
  
Whenever those second thoughts began to take over, Remus would glance over at Harry, who hadn’t stopped studying the map of Malfoy Manor since Remus had taken it out on his way over here. The look in his eyes, eyes that were so like his mother, was always enough to drown out those feelings and keep him working.  
  
“So we can come in this way,” Hermione pointed to the center of the gates, “and use that as a distraction climb the walls over here and here-” she pointed to several other sections of the map- “which will cause another distraction for one person to sneak into the dungeons.”  
  
“You’re forgetting the wards,” Mr. Weasley responded, grabbing a red pen and drawing a large circle around the house. “Nobody will be able to get in or out. There’s a reason we haven’t tried liberating prisoners before.”  
  
Harry was silent. “They want me to go in,” he said slowly.  
  
“No!” Hermione, Ron and Mrs. Weasley said at the same time.  
  
“Harry don’t be silly!” Mrs. Weasley continued. “You’ll just be putting Draco in more danger! Besides, you’re much too young-”  
  
“I’m not-”  
  
“You are underage,” Remus cut in. “Besides, there is someone who might still be able to get across the wards we haven’t mentioned quite yet. Someone who has great emotional ties to this case.”  
  
“His mother,” Hermione breathed.  
  
Remus tapped the entrance. “Hermione’s plan is a good one. It’s a bluff- we pretend that the front entrance is the distraction while two groups sneak around the sides when in truth all three are distractions for the single person to get to Mr. Malfoy. If Mrs. Malfoy can manage to lower the wards- even if it is just for a minute- it’ll be enough to start the attack. If not-” he met Harry’s eyes from across the table- “there is no way to free him.”  
  
To his great surprise, not a single vase blew up.  
  
“They are torturing him right now!” Harry yelled. “I saw-” he cut himself off, but that was enough for Remus to figure out the new depths of pain in Harry’s eyes.  
  
“They are torturing him and he won’t give them what they want.” Harry’s eyes glistened. “He won’t break. But they are hurting him _right now_ and I’m not going to bloody leave him there!”  
  
“No one is asking you to mate!” Ron looked appalled by the very thought.  
  
“Let’s talk to Narcissa first,” Arthur said gently, “before we get desperate. Okay, Harry?”  
  
Harry stared at the map. “I’m leaving with or without your help in 3 hours. You have that time to come up with a plan or I’ll just walk right up there and tell them to trade me with Dra- with my boyfriend.”  
  
“Harry you can’t!” Hermione grabbed his arm. “Think of how you would feel if Draco traded himself for you! Draco wouldn’t want you to-”  
  
“Three hours is plenty of time to make a plan,” Harry said stubbornly, ripping his arm from Hermione’s grasp. “I want to leave now-”  
  
“I’ll go get Mrs. Malfoy,” Remus pushed from the kitchen table. “Arthur, you might contact other members to properly stage an attack and Molly, perhaps ask the twins for some of their more explosive tricks, we want them to know the front attack is a distraction.” Harry's eyes boreholes into the map. “If we only have three hours, we might as well get to it.”

  
  


Narcissa hadn’t moved once as Remus described the situation. Her sister, Andromeda Tonks, watched her the entire time, but neither one dropped the poker face. He supposed that after years of living under Lucius’s roof, one might get rather good at schooling their expression, though he couldn’t be sure why his wife’s mother would have learned it. Tonks certainly hadn’t.  
  
“So you just need me to drop the wards,” Mrs. Malfoy asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.  
  
Remus gave a slight nod. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the woman; she certainly wasn’t a saint, with the number of times he had seen her use slurs and turn her nose up at Hermione. Not to mention the way she had treated him the first time they met. But, like Draco, she had apologized profoundly and claimed it was an act, one to fool her husband and the beasts living with her.  
  
There was evidence that supported her claims. The scars littering her body, the easy way she spoke with Muggleborns now, hell, the fact that she was living with one and he had not once seen her wince when Ted walked by.  
  
Not to mention the way Draco stood around her as if he was going to try and protect her from anything that came her way.  
  
But there was also evidence against her. Not as much, Lupin could admit that, but no matter how many times they asked, Narcissa had not once allowed the Order into her head. And while she might not look it, the walls of her mind were built like a fortress; without her guiding hand, they would never be able to find their way in.  
  
“No,” Narcissa growled. Andromeda shifted slightly. “I am not going to be a mere tool in the rescue of my son. I will help you, but I am _going to fight_.”  
  
Remus blinked. “You believe you can drop the wards then?”  
  
“I can promise you an hour,” she responded. “But I want to be part of the group going to get my son.”  
  
“Mrs-”  
  
“I know my way around the mansion because I lived there for decades. You know, based on maps that _I_ gave you.”  
  
“Nar-”  
  
“You just came back from a mission in transferring Potter- Don’t bother to tell me I’m wrong, he fell through my home’s- my sister’s house’s roof. At the very least, you’re wounded, at the worst, a couple of you have died. I assume it was in this transfer that my son was taken?”  
  
He opened his mouth but Narcissa didn’t bother to wait for his response.  
  
“That means you’ll need all the help you can get. Not to mention, if something goes wrong with the wards and the group getting Draco gets stuck inside, Draco and I are the only ones that can even get through the wards. So while-”  
  
“Cissy!” Andromeda cried, reaching up and grabbing her sister’s hands. Narcissa froze for a brief second before allowing herself to relax. “Cissy,” Andromeda repeated softly. “Let my son-in-law speak.”  
  
Narcissa turned back to Remus, eyes alight with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “My apologies.”  
  
“It’s quite alright. I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer you want- But,” he added quickly at the look on her face, “I also can’t give you an answer you dislike. I am a messenger in a larger group. But either way, we are down to 2 hours and 38 minutes to make a concrete plan, and since you are able to drop the wards, I ask you to come with me where we might further discuss it.”  
  
Andromeda nodded. “Just let me grab our wands and we’ll be set to go.”  
  
“We’ll?” Narcissa asked before Remus could question it. Her face didn’t betray her, but the tone of her word did, stark with confusion and hope. Andromeda took both her hands and pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek.  
  
“Let’s go save my nephew.”

  
  


When they got back, Remus had to keep himself from grimacing. If Andromeda and Narcissa noticed the mess around them, they said nothing.  
  
Every single vase in the kitchen was in pieces on the floor and Harry paced back and forth, wand clenched by his side. Mrs. Weasley appeared to have tried to distract him with food, as the few inches of the table that wasn’t covered by the map had some of Harry’s favorite foods.  
  
Narcissa went right up to the boy and stopped his walking. He looked up at her and Lupin winced at the desperation in those eyes. For a moment, Remus was sure that was how Lily’s eyes looked, in the final moments of her life.  
  
“I can drop the wards,” Narcissa promised him.  
  
Harry took a long breath. “He won’t want you in danger.”  
  
“I’m his mother.” Narcissa drew herself up. “I don’t care what he wants, I make the rules. And I want to go in.” Her eyes traveled to the Weasleys, to Hermione, to the several other members standing over the table. “I am going to be on the rescue team.”  
  
Silence greeted her.  
  
Hermione spoke before any of the other wizards could. Despite being younger, she commanded respect and if Remus hadn’t known her he wouldn’t have even noticed the tremble to her voice. “We were planning to have only one person go in. Harry has an invisibility cloak. And while he’s not allowed to go-” Harry’s hand tightened on his wand- “-we can still use the cloak to get one person into the house. The rest-” she pointed across the paper and Narcissa walked next to her, leaning over her shoulder- “pose as a double distraction and a bluff.”  
  
“Clever,” Narcissa admitted. “But you’ll need two going in. There are several complex locks going in here-” she pulled Hermione’s hand so it pointed to a specific part of the map- “and here.” Once again, she shifted Hermione’s hand. “You’ll want one person to undo the locks and another as a lookout.”  
  
“And I assume,” Eliza Miranda Rosemary stated, a gruff-looking witch who had joined the Order through Kingsley, “you wish to be a part of the team of two?”  
  
Remus didn’t say anything as Narcissa dragged her eyes over to Eliza. Her face was sharp. Beside him, Andromeda appeared to want to go to her, but she held tight. It wasn’t her fight.  
  
“Do you have children, ma’am?”  
  
“Yes,” Eliza said shortly. “And I understand your want to help. But you need to understand my lack of trust. We are risking quite a lot for a marked Death Eater-”  
  
Remus grabbed Harry just before the boy could leap on her.  
  
Narcissa’s eyes hardened. “He is just a boy. And he took the mark because Voldemort tortured several muggles to death in front of him and promised to spare one- to spare me- if and only if he branded himself.”  
  
Harry still struggled in Remus’s grip, wand pointing furiously at Eliza. Andromeda seemed to realize his struggle and casually stepped in his path, so Harry couldn’t hope to get a clear shot off.  
  
“Now,” Narcissa said, glaring around the room with such force Remus wouldn’t have been surprised if Voldemort himself bowed to her. “I can explain how each lock works, but it’ll take time and it is my understanding that we do not have much left.” Her eyes traveled to Harry, who had given up fighting Remus and just stood stiff in his arms. “The optimal team is me and someone who can handle taking on several spells at once. Preferably a strong male, because Draco won’t be able to walk.”  
  
Nobody dared to say that the best person for the job was Mad-Eye.  
  
Remus flew through the members. He was good in a fight, strong enough with magic to take on the leftover Death Eaters on the inside and knew a spell that would allow Mr. Malfoy to float next to them. The problem was he wasn’t very strong physically and when casting the spell on Draco he wouldn’t be able to fend off any others.  
He opened his mouth.  
  
“Kingsley,” Harry said. “Kingsley is perfect.”  
  
“Harry,” Remus said gently, “Kingsley needs to watch the Prime Minister. He was already absent-”  
  
“We can have somebody else watch him,” Harry snarled. “Polyjuice potion, nobody will know the difference, and Kingsley will be back before anyone will notice.”  
  
Silence. Then-  
  
“That could work,” Ron said slowly. “I mean, if they’re all concentrating on the Manor, they’re not going to look at the Prime Minister.”  
  
Remus met Arthur’s eyes. The redhead nodded slightly.  
  
“I’ll contact him now,” Arthur said softly, already on his way out.  
  
“We have another problem,” Harry pulled himself from Remus’s grasp. “I know for a fact that they didn’t put him in the dungeon once last night. It’s possible…” His voice broke, but he kept going. “It’s possible they still have him in the living room.”  
  
Narcissa’s face was pale. Andromeda went up to her sister and gently put an arm around her.  
  
“We can use ‘Point me’,” His wife’s mother said softly, squeezing Narcissa's arm. “It’ll guide us right to him.”  
  
Arthur strode back in the room. “Kingsley’s in.” he came to a halt beside his wife. “I’ll pretend to be Kingsley until he’s able to come back. We make the groups, and we’ll be ready.”  
  
Harry glanced at the clock. “We need something more. Something to draw them out. If I were to just-”  
  
“No!” Lupin wasn’t sure how many people sounded off that word, only that he himself was one of them. “They will be expecting you. You can’t go.” That was him alone.  
  
“I need to do something!” Harry yelled  
  
“Again, they are expecting you. But you’re right, we will need something to draw them out.”  
  
At this point, everyone was staring at him. “What do you suggest?” asked Andromeda.  
  
“Giving them what they expect.”  
  
…  
  
Draco was still sane.  
  
If someone had told Voldemort that the Malfoy boy could withstand 20 hours of torture, and be able to survive it mentally the Dark Lord would have laughed in their face, and pointed to the stronger, fiercer members of the Order that he had broken in less than an hour. Then he probably would’ve killed the messenger. Now, however, while Draco had long since stopped doing anything but wincing and screaming, Voldemort could still feel the strength of his mind every time he went looking for a crack in it.  
  
It was infuriating, the strength of this boy’s mind. No matter what angle Voldemort took it he hit off a wall that sent him down a maze the boy had set up himself. It was possibly the most impressive mind that Voldemort had ever been in.  
  
He longed to break it.  
  
“Severus,” Voldemort said softly as Lucius sent his son screaming yet again. “I don’t believe you’ve had a turn quite yet.”  
  
Snape turned his black eyes to the Dark Lord and smiled. “You are gracious, my Lord, to allow each of us a chance.”  
  
It was that, the voice, the tone, the way his right hand held himself that had Voldemort giving him his complete trust. Nobody but him would ever dare to hold his gaze and nobody but him deserved to.  
  
After all, it was thanks to Severus his enemy was dead.  
  
“The Dark Lord is nothing if not giving. Lucius, that’s enough.” The long-haired blond pulled his wand up at once, leaving his son motionless on the floor.  
  
For probably the thousandth time that day, Voldemort tried to break into Draco’s mind and seek out Harry Potter’s hiding place. This time, however, he found a crack, barely noticeable among the layers and layers of protection the boy had up and gleefully slipped through it. Voldemort had known it was only a matter of time before the boy snapped.  
  
Behind him, the opening snapped shut. Voldemort spun around and pressed an imaginary hand against it. The barrier didn’t move.  
  
Again, Voldemort spun, determined to move onwards in Draco’s mind. Instead, he found himself up against another wall.  
  
The Malfoy boy had purposely trapped him in his mind.  
  
He let out a shout of rage that nobody could hear but him. Him, and the worthless Malfoy boy. Dull laughter sounded around him and Voldemort banged his hand against the wall.  
  
_Idiot._  
  
Even the mental voice sounded tired.  
  
Voldemort slammed his spirit against the wall again but the wall didn’t even budge. Instead, it shoved him back, and he went flying across the square he was trapped in, slamming against the opposite wall.  
  
“You will let me out,” Voldemort hissed, “or I will look through every single thought in your dull-  
  
_This is a two-way stream you know. I wonder what secrets you keep in your ugly snake-like head?_  
  
“No!” Voldemort shouted.  
  
_No?_ The dull laughter again. Perhaps dull wasn’t the right word. Humorless, did it better justice, dry humorless laughter. _Do you think you can stop me? You can’t even get out of my head, Riddle. You’re worthless. Even your own mom thought so. She was probably happy she died, happy at the prospect of being rid of you._  
  
“You’re at my mercy,” the Dark Lord hissed back. “You-”  
  
_I’m at your mercy? This time the laughter was just dry. Let’s see if I can trigger the right memories. Orphanage._  
  
It was like being thrown over a cliff; Voldemort could do nothing to stop his descent as memories of the other useless kids, only around for him to play around with, worthless kids filled his brain. He recognized all of them; he had enjoyed torturing all of them in his youth.  
  
_Special._  
  
The talk with Dumbledore. Voldemort knew he had been special, knew he had been more important than the other nobodies at the garbage place-  
  
_Important. Object._  
  
The book he held in his hands, the book he poured his soul into. The book Lucius had let get destroyed.  
  
_Cave. Object._  
  
The locket, going to see the locket with the bloody house elf by his side. It had been fun, watching the way the creature’s eyes had bloodied as the poison wound its way through his body. Voldemort had been glad to let nature dispose of such a waste of space.  
  
_Hufflepuff. Location._  
  
The cup filled his mind, the cup he had given Bellatrix to store in Gringotts. It was still safe and when he killed this Malfoy blood-traitor-  
  
_Ravenclaw. Location._  
  
The school, the clever way he had stuck the diadem in a room nobody but he would ever know about, for only he truly knew Hogwarts-  
  
_Alright._ Draco’s mind grabbed him before he hit the bottom of the cliff and dragged him back up. _Let’s just get rid of all this, shall we? It makes things much easier._  
  
“No!”  
  
But the boy, the boy that should’ve been broken, took the memory of how he had watched memories from inside of Voldemort’s head and smashed it. Voldemort knew he was trapped, he knew he was furious, but he no longer remembered the way Malfoy had turned his own spell on himself.  
  
The crack opened and Voldemort soared from Malfoy’s head. Draco still lay motionless but for a second Voldemort could have sworn he was smirking.  
  
“Crucio!”  
  
It felt better to watch him scream. Made the monster in his chest roar out with pleasure, and the monster had long since guided his actions.  
  
“My Lord,” Severus said softly, barely heard over the boy’s pathetic noises. “Are you quite alright? You were in there for a while.”  
  
Draco stopped screaming and Voldemort let out a sigh. He pulled his wand away and glanced at Bellatrix.  
  
“Wake him up.”  
  
The witch moved instantly.  
  
He turned back to Severus. “The boy is cleverer than I thought,” he admitted. “But not clever enough for the Dark Lord. I managed to find my way out.”  
  
Severus nodded, black eyes glittering oddly. For a second, Voldemort could’ve sworn there was something that looked like pride dancing in his pupils.  
  
“Of course, my Lord.”  
  
Draco whimpered as he came back to life, head lolling back on his shoulders.  
  
“Now Severus, I believe it was your turn before our brief delay.” Voldemort stowed his wand away in his cloak as his right-hand man stood, making his way over to the limp yet quivering boy.  
  
Snape stood above him, pulling his own wand from his pocket. He didn’t cast just yet- perhaps he was taking in the words carved up and down his left arm, or studying the way Draco could not stop himself from shaking in lingering pain. Either way, the room waited in silence as Severus turned his wand down.  
  
“Sectumsempra.”  
  
…  
  
The bang was the first signal. It let Narcissa know to ready herself. Beside her, Kingsley threw the cloak up and over his head, disappearing for view completely.  
  
The scene that followed was almost comical.  
  
At least 15 polyjuiced Harrys rushed the wards. Narcissa held her wand out and just as the Harrys reached them she brought it down in a fluid yet zigged motion, murmuring a countless number of words. There was a swooshing sound and the wards vanished. She watched her home for nearly a quarter of a century appear into view.  
  
The mere sight of it was enough to make her want to vomit.  
  
The Harry’s weren’t quiet, but then, they weren’t trying to be. Explosions went off in every which way- one of the Harrys set a tree on fire as they ran by. Still, Narcissa stood silently, watching for the second signal.  
  
_“You have to wait,” Remus told the room, “until at least three Death Eaters come out.”_  
  
It took less than a minute, but it wasn’t three Death Eaters. Lucius stepped out, followed by Bella. That was enough to have Narcissa throat catch, enough to have her place a hand against a tree to keep from falling.  
  
But the Dark Lord himself stepped out, wand in hand.  
  
It didn’t matter. That was the second signal. Narcissa sent a red spark into the air. Seconds later from much deeper in the tree a golden spark when off, letting her know that the bluff was in action. Two groups of four Harry’s had begun to sneak in from the side.  
  
The Dark Lord had summoned more Death Eaters to battle; several were apparating around him. Narcissa still waited and Kingsley brushed a hand against her elbow, just to let her know he was there.  
  
That he was ready.  
  
_“You don’t go in-” Hermione, a mere 17-year-old, met her eye as she spoke- “until you see two sets of green lights, one from each group of four. That means that someone “caught” them. They need to think that they’ve intercepted our plan.”_  
  
It took longer than she expected, but soon enough, green fireworks appeared in the sky. Kingsley gripped her elbow twice and the two took off at a run.  
  
It was easier than she expected too. Narcissa had long since learned her way around the home and knew every secret entrance to and fro the house. Whenever Lucius had gotten into a particularly bad mood, it had been her way of protecting herself from one of his rages. They didn’t even have to go near the house for her to find her favorite- and most useful- secret entrance, hidden behind several sets of rocks. She stepped up to a large English Oaktree and tapped her wand twice against one of the oldest branches. Beside her, a door seemed to carve itself into the wood and it swung open. Kingsley let out a low whistle as she stepped through, and Narcissa moved out of the way as he stepped through. When he reached out to shut the door, she managed to catch a glimpse of his dark, manicured hand.  
  
“Lumos.”  
  
The passageway was of dark rich dirt, looking to have been dug out by hand, and roots hung above their heads. Narcissa paid them no mind as she took off at a run towards the house. Despite the roots and rocks coating the floor, Narcissa knew precisely where to step and didn’t even have to look at the floor to keep an even footing. There were several crossroads, yet Narcissa didn’t once pause, staying at a near sprint until she reached an ending to the many tunnels.  
  
“Kingsley,” she whispered. “Are you with me?”  
  
“Despite nearly falling at least 50 times,” the wizard huffed. “Yes.”  
  
Narcissa stared at the ladder in front of her. It went up for 54 rungs; she knew how the twelfth one creaked, and how the thirty-fifth one was loose on the left side. Taking a breath, Narcissa leaned forward and grabbed it, beginning the long climb. The ladder shifted slightly as Kingsley followed her.  
  
She pulled herself up, one after another until she reached that 54th rung. The ladder stilled from underneath her as Kingsley waited.  
  
If Narcissa closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that it wasn’t an invisible Kingsley beneath her, but Draco. They had come up this way often in the summers, usually after a particularly bad beating on Lucius’s part. Before 4th year, Lucius used to use Imperius on Draco and whenever Draco stood up to him hurting her, he would make Draco do it instead.  
  
Narcissa would never forget those summer nights, of hiding in the woods together, Draco gently touching the bruises on her face, near tears. He had promised back then to get her out. To save her.  
  
Now it was her turn to save him.  
  
She tapped her wand against the dirt above her five times, then drew out an M in the dirt. Almost immediately, the dirt began to change, shifting into a marble trapdoor. Narcissa pushed up against it and as she stepped out, flung her wand around in a circle, watching for anyone around.  
  
But the room was empty.  
  
Kingsley's voice boomed through the air. “Where are we?”  
  
“My bedroom,” Narcissa said quietly. “Lucius and I slept in different rooms so it was an easy way to escape.” She held her wand out in front of her. “Nox.” The light vanished, but the sun in the windows was plenty enough to see. “Point me, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”  
  
The wand tugged her forward and she looked around the room blankly.  
  
“You ready?”  
  
The bedroom door swung open in response.  
  
The hallways might have been quiet, but the rich wood of the house did nothing to insulate Narcissa from the sounds of battle on all three sides of the house. Each explosion had her jumping, each curse, swinging in the hallways. The very idea of being back in the house had her on edge; she didn’t need the added tension of the spells outside.  
  
The wand wasn’t tugging her towards the dungeon-like she had originally expected, but rather towards the living room. Narcissa's breaths became more uneven and she lost her footing several times as they made their way over there. The walls seemed to climb higher and curve in on her, the floor sticky as if it longer to keep her here.  
  
Stuck in this mansion forever.  
  
“No.” Narcissa shook her head, ignoring what Kingsley thought of her. “I’m out. I got out.”  
  
There was a silence as they walked. Then-  
  
“Concentrate on Draco.” Kingsley’s voice was soft. “Your son. Tell me about him while we walk.”  
  
Narcissa nodded, peeking around a corner. “He’s so strong. Too strong, for a boy his age.”  
  
There was a shout from outside. Narcissa flinched but didn’t slow her movements down the hallway towards the forbidden room. Beside her, Kingsley brushed a hand across her elbow.  
  
“He’s loyal beyond all means; if you hurt or even talk about anyone he cares about in a bad way, he’ll make you pay. Draco was always good about finding his revenge; sometimes in ways you’ll never know was him. He says that’s the Slytherin part of him.” She turned her head around a corner. Still nothing. “Draco was always very proud of that part.”  
  
“It sounds more like Hufflepuff.”  
  
Narcissa couldn’t find it in her to laugh. “Don’t tell him that.”  
  
They walked further in silence. Narcissa wondered, not for the first time, why this house had to be so goddamn big.  
  
“Stop.” Kingsley was suddenly in front of her. “I see someone.”  
  
She peeked around the corner, stiffening. “Greyback,” she breathed. “He’s guarding the living room. I can-”  
  
“No.” Kingsley pushed her back behind the corner. “Let me. When I send out red sparks, you run into the room and get your son.”  
  
Narcissa nodded.  
  
There was no sound as Kingsley crept forward, no sign that he had even left. But Greyback's head suddenly tipped to the air and he took a long sniff.  
  
It took all of her self-control not to run out right then and there.  
  
Greyback had been one of her punishments; Narcissa couldn’t remember the amount of time Lucius had watched him bed her, watched her struggle against his claws until she finally gave up and allowed the monster to have her. It was the only part of her torture that she kept from Draco. It was the reason she would not allow any of the Order into her head, no matter how many times Remus suggested it.  
  
“Narcissa,” Greyback’s voice crept through the hallway and she froze. “I didn’t expect to smell you again.”  
  
Her fingernails dug little crescent moons into her palm, but even that wasn’t enough to keep her from shaking. Why did it have to be him? She would have preferred almost anyone else, would have even taken her sister over this… this creature in front of her.  
  
“And you brought a friend.”  
  
The small amount of circulation that hadn’t already stilled from his voice froze at that sentence.  
  
“Smart, to hide him.” The wolf’s voice drew closer and Narcissa had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. “The others would’ve been fooled.”  
  
“Draco,” she whispered. “Draco. Draco-”  
  
“Your boy?” Greyback laughed. “I thought I had heard him scream last summer. I’m shocked he still knows his own name at this point.”  
  
_He’s sane._ Narcissa's legs almost gave out in relief. _He’s sane, and he’s alive._  
  
_Which means he can be saved._  
  
She raised her wand and set out a burst of red sparks.  
  
It happened all in one motion. Kingsley’s low voice sounded through the hallway as Narcissa turned around the corner and took off down the hallway at a run. Greyback reached for her, but she tore away from his grasp and ripped open the living room door, slamming it shut against the sound of Kingsley and Greyback’s beginning duel.  
  
She leaned against the door, breathing heavily, eyes shut. When she opened them, Narcissa felt her blood run cold.  
  
Severus stood in front of her, behind her son’s unconscious body. Narcissa didn’t spare the man a glance as she let out a cry and landed on her knees next to his body, running her hands over his pale, sweaty face.  
  
“How long?” she whispered, lifting Draco by his torso and pressing his body against her chest, his right arm curving over his stomach as she held him. Instantly, her cloak was drenched, but Narcissa paid that no mind as she took in the words someone had carved into his left arm, right above where the Dark Mark had been ripped from his skin.  
  
_Blood-Traitor._  
  
_Worthless._  
  
_Useless._  
  
_Trash._  
  
“How long?!” she demanded, looking up at Severus with such fury it was a surprise the man didn’t buckle. Snape merely knelt on the other side of her son and wiped his bangs out of his damp face.  
  
“20 hours and 15 minutes.” Snape’s voice was matter-of-fact, but the way his hands trembled told her otherwise. “He didn’t break. The Dark Lord couldn’t even get inside his brain. He… he trapped him inside his head.”  
  
Narcissa drew a steadying breath. “Did you hurt him?”  
  
Severus didn’t respond.  
  
Her entire body stiffened and within her, a monster began to roar. “What spell did you use?”  
  
He stood up. “You need to leave. I-”  
  
“What. Spell.”  
  
He looked down and something like guilt shone in those black orbs. “Sectumsempra.”  
  
Gently, Narcissa lay her son on the floor and stood, stepping over him and pointing her wand directly at Severus. It quivered in her hand as she jabbed it into his chest, knocking him backward. He didn’t bother to draw his own, face tight.  
  
“How could you?” she breathed. Again, he stayed silent and Narcissa pointed her wand at the ceiling. The beautiful glass chandelier, over 400 years old, passed down from Malfoy to Malfoy for generations, shattered into pieces. “How could you?!” she screamed.  
  
“If I had used the Cruciatus Curse, I risked breaking his mind,” Severus said calmly. “By using Sectumsempra, there was little risk of the unfortunate ordeal the Longbottoms were put through, and I served the Dark Lord so he would not be suspicious. It is a favorite spell of mine.” He practically spat out that last sentence.  
  
Narcissa shoved him back further so he was pressed up against the wall. “The only reason,” she breathed, noses practically touching, “I am letting you live is for when you saved my son last summer. But this-” she pointed at Draco lying unconscious at the floor- “this makes us even. And if I do see you again, I _will_ kill you. Do you understand me?”  
  
Severus nodded slightly. She pulled back, instantly dropping beside her son wrapping his arm in her own white handkerchief. Almost instantly, the white cloth was stained a bright red.  
  
It was almost enough for her to turn around and strike down the wizard behind her. Almost.  
  
Gently, Narcissa entered Draco’s mind. Severus had said he didn’t break, and she knew he was strong but…  
  
The walls were much weaker than she was used to, but not even she was able to push through her son’s fortress; instead, she knocked against the door twice and waited.  
  
The door slowly crept open. As she walked into Draco’s front room, several other walls slid into place, allowing her no further. She placed a hand against the stone he had used to create them and pressed a gentle kiss against it.  
  
"I’m here. Are you?"  
  
Silence greeted her. Then, almost like it was too much for him, two words sounded through the room. _Yes. Harry?_  
  
"He’s safe," she promised. Narcissa turned back towards the door. "They wouldn’t let him come."  
  
_Good._ God, he sounded so exhausted. Tears pricked the edges of Narcissa’s eyes but she held them in, stroking up the walls of the castle.  
  
"I have to go. We need to get you out."  
  
She could feel his desperation, his need for her to stay.  
  
"We need to get to a safe place. And Harry’s waiting for you. I promise I’ll be with you every step of the way. But I need to leave your head to do that."  
  
Fear was stark in his mind. She nearly decided to just stay here with him when a single word pushed her out the door.  
  
_Okay._  
  
"I love you."  
  
_Love you more._  
  
Narcissa pulled from Draco’s head. She stood, brushing the single tear that had dared make its way down her face out of the way as she walked over to the door. Severus was gone.  
  
Slowly, she opened it. Kingsley’s head stood above Greyback’s body. As the door opened, it swerved to look at her. Narcissa raised her eyebrows at the sight of his head waving in the air.  
  
“Is he alive?” Kingsley asked.  
  
“Yes. Is he?” Narcissa responded.  
  
“No.” Kingsley’s head loomed closer to her and slipped into the room. He pulled the invisibility cloak from around his shoulders and picked up Draco in one smooth motion. Narcissa helped him curve the cloak around her son’s body until he was completely hidden from view.  
  
“You killed him?” She couldn’t hide her trembling, her shameful hope as she looked up at Kingsley.  
  
“I wasn’t planning on it,” was his short response.  
  
His perfect response.  
  
The trip back was much faster. Narcissa led Kingsley through the hallways, back into her room and through the tree. Once they were free, she pointed her wand up into the sky and sent off several bangs, followed by a flash of black sparks, then gold, then red. Kingsley adjusted the invisible weight in his arms as he sat down on the ground next to the tree.  
  
“And now we wait.”  
  
She sat next to him. “Now we wait.”  
  
They didn’t have to wait long. Cracks filled the air as the Order apparated away. Sounds of fury sounded up and down the Death Eaters and Narcissa could’ve sworn that she heard Voldemort’s screaming from here. She shuddered slightly and brushed a hand against the grass.  
  
Safe. She was safe. And, more importantly, so was Draco.  
  
A Harry appeared in front of them. “Right on time,” the Harry said softly. “And I don’t think anyone was hurt. You got him?”  
  
“Yes.” Narcissa stood and Kingsley quickly followed suit, once again shifting his arms. “I presume you’re Remus?”  
  
“You presume correctly.” Harry-Remus looked over at Kingsley. “Can he apparate?”  
  
“No.” Kingsley shook his head as he spoke. “He…” The man glanced over at Narcissa and she nodded slightly at him. Yes, she could take it. “I don’t think he’ll ever be the same. Physically even. My brief reading of him-”  
  
Narcissa started. She hadn’t even noticed.  
  
“-showed muscle and fat deterioration. He won’t ever be able to achieve full strength again.”  
  
Remus-Harry nodded and pulled a pen out of his pocket. “Then we have about 15 minutes until this goes off. Might I suggest we move to safer ground?”  
  
…  
  
Molly was watching Harry out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t left him alone since they left, nearly 45 minutes ago.  
  
At first, she had tried to keep him busy, but Harry hadn’t accepted that. Every job she had dared to give him was ignored for the piece of carpet he was still pacing up and down, carving his very own pathway into the already worn rug.  
  
Then she tried to talk to him. That was perhaps worse than keeping him busy; nearly every word she spoke caused another vase to break and Molly had never been happier for the spell Reparo! in her life.  
  
Finally, Molly had left him on his path in the carpet, coming up with a number of different reasons to remain in the room with him, if not to give him some form of comfort then to keep him from running out of the room.  
  
She had thought his pacing would’ve gotten better once people came back, still looking just like the boy, but instead he had just begun to move faster. One of the Harry’s told him that the color of the sparks indicated that they had gotten Draco out. Molly wasn’t sure which one, but even that hadn’t calmed the boy. He merely growled something incoherent and kept going.  
  
There was a loud snap in the garden; not an apparation, but a Portkey. Harry was out the door in a moment and with an angry breath, Molly strode out after him.  
  
A Harry stood next to Narcissa and Kingsley, who had his hands held out awkwardly around what seemed to be nothing. All three of them were gripping a pen, which fake Harry promptly stored in his pocket.  
  
“Where is he?!” Harry ran right up to Kingsley. “Let me see him!”  
  
Narcissa lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s head inside. We’ll be able to work on helping him there.”  
  
A sharp sinking motion made its way into Molly’s gut as she led them into the living room. Kingsley and Narcissa worked to remove the invisibility cloak from around Draco’s body and Harry paled as they lay him down gently on the couch.  
  
Molly watched him kneel beside the boy. Gently, he pressed a kiss against Draco’s shining forehead. Then his nose. Then each cheek. He pulled up and wiped the remaining bangs from his forehead and kissed it again.  
  
“Hey.” His voice broke instantly. “You really had me worried, you git.”  
  
Several of the other Harry’s in the room were watching the exchange with adept interest. Molly turned and looked at them, raising each orange eyebrow.  
  
One of them coughed. “Happy to help.” He strode up and shook Molly’s hand. Or she. Or they. It. “I hope he’s…” Fake Harry’s voice trailed off as he/she/they/it watched real Harry outline Draco’s face. “Well. I’ll see you at the wedding.”  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered. She had to whisper it several more times, as a number of different fake Harry’s used this moment to take their leave.  
  
“How long did they hurt him?” Real Harry whispered from behind her. Narcissa whispered an answer to him and Molly could do nothing as tears splashed from those beautiful green orbs.  
  
Several other Harry’s still stood in front of her. She marched up to them. “Are you mine?” she demanded. Harry jumped.  
  
“N-no. I’m Hermione.”  
  
“My apologies.” Mrs. Weasley patted her cheek clumsily, ignoring the heat rushing to her face. “Do be a dear and run and grab the medical supplies in the bathroom? Ron can help you. Ron?”  
  
“Y-yeah.” One of the Harrys stepped forward and the two ran up the stairs.  
  
Molly turned to the leftover four Harrys, discounting the real one still kneeling next to his boyfriend's body. “I don’t want jokes. Fred and George, if you want to stick around, your room is ready. Remus, I assume you’re staying for a little while longer. Bill, drinks?”  
  
One of the Harry’s starting for the kitchen, hair going orange and long as he walked. Two of ‘em made their way for the stairs as well, leaving Molly alone with Narcissa, Remus-Harry who was turning into Remus-Remus as the seconds passed and Real Harry.  
  
And Draco.  
  
Harry pressed another kiss on Draco’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispered. “So wake the hell up.”  
  
Narcissa choked a laugh as she knelt next to him. “Are you good at Legilimency Spell, Mr. Potter?”  
  
“Rubbish at it,” Harry said quietly. “Besides, all Draco does is brag about how good at Occlumency he is.”  
  
“I’m going to lead you into his head,” Narcissa said quietly. “He’ll decide how far you can get. Ready?”  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
“Okay, I need you too…”  
  
Molly turned as Ron and Hermione thundered back down the stairs, officially back into their regular bodies. Almost on cue, Bill strutted into the room, holding two bottles of butterbeer with a round of drinks floating above his head, already full. Remus snatched one out of the air and made his way to a chair, draining it in one gulp.  
  
Molly made her way next to him. “That bad?” she asked softly.  
  
Remus shook his head silently, watching as Narcissa led Harry into Draco’s mind. “Mrs. Malfoy is telling the truth about her abuse,” he said, so quiet only she could hear. “Kingsley claimed her behavior in the house confirmed it.”  
  
Molly nodded slightly, glancing over at the woman. She pulled her hand away from Draco’s head and stood, making her way over to Ron and Hermione. Hermione held out the medical kit silently, eyes full of tears.  
  
Besides Draco, Harry began to shake. His own tears began to drip down his cheeks and several vases exploded.  
  
“I thought we were done with that,” Molly said moodily as she pulled the medical kit from Hermione’s hand. Remus let out a humorless laugh, refilling his drink and downing it once more.  
  
“… safe… me….” Harry muttered. “…Voldemort’s… Burrow.”  
  
Everyone turned to look at him. His entire body appeared to be trembling but Molly watched a ghost of a smile appear on his face, forcing his tears to change pathways.  
“…love… Ferret….”  
  
Hermione swallowed. “We should fix him up,” she said loudly, pulling everyone’s attention away from the two boys. “Mrs. Malfoy can you-”  
  
The woman nodded and moved instantly, tapping her wand against Harry’s forehead. Her mouth moved, but unlike Harry, no words were spoken aloud. Still, Harry reacted to it, shaking his head.  
  
“…stay….” Molly winced at the desperation in his voice, even as she stepped forward and placed the kit on the ground next to the couch, watching Narcissa’s lips move again.  
  
“…please….”  
  
By this point, Hermione was openly crying. She turned into Ron, who stood tall and hugged her tight, offering his shoulder as a steady wall of comfort. Even he seemed to be affected, burying his head into the crook of her neck, eyes pressed tightly together. Remus downed another glass of fire whiskey.  
  
Narcissa ripped Harry from Malfoy’s head and he crumpled, weeping openly. Both Hermione and Ron moved, but Molly got there first, wrapping her arms around the boy and pulling his close. He fell against her shoulder and just sobbed.  
  
Ron stepped up and pulled Harry from his mother’s arms, dragging the boy out of the way and keeping him standing beside him. As both he and Hermione hugged her adopted son, Molly looked over to the pale blond, still lying limp on the couch and took in the extent of his wounds.  
  
She glanced at Narcissa, clenching her shaking hands together tightly. “We’ll need to bath him,” she said quietly, “before we can begin to fix him up. And-” she moved the tip of her wand over the words carved into his arm, fighting the bile rising in her throat- “these were created with Dark Magic; they can’t be healed by magic. The best I can do is stop the bleeding.”  
  
Narcissa nodded. “Lucius never allowed me to learn healing spells. Draco was the one who…” She coughed. “I won’t be much help.” Something like fear sparked through in those last words.  
  
Molly recognized it instantly. She couldn’t imagine what she would’ve done when George came back and she was unable to work on his ear, if she had been set aside, even if it was due to something like lack of experience. She gave Narcissa a comforting smile.  
  
“That’s quite alright,” Mrs. Weasley promised. “I’ll keep you on track while we work on him. Come along now, we need to lift him into the tub, and I’m afraid it’s upstairs.”

  
  


Molly and Narcissa made quick work of him. While Draco’s mother stripped him bare and lay him down in the lukewarm water, Molly grabbed a set of Ron’s softest pajamas (they’d be too big on Draco but it was the best she had) and made her way back to the bathroom. Neither spoke as the two scrubbed the gallons of sweat from his body, cleaned out the remaining scars from what seemed to be repeated Sectumsempra (Narcissa stiffened) across his chest, and finally moved to open wounds up and down his arm. She gently massaged an anti-infection cream into each letter, pointedly ignoring the mark below it.  
  
Or rather, the lack thereof.  
  
She gestured to the clear skinning of his arm. It seemed older than the rest and had already begun to heal. “He did this to himself?” she whispered to Narcissa.  
  
Narcissa’s eyes didn’t leave it. “I hadn’t noticed that,” she admitted. “I assumed they did it to him.”  
  
“We’ll talk to him later,” Molly promised.  
  
From then on the silence continued. The two dressed his unconscious body with some difficulty, and Molly wrapped both his old and new wounds in a number of different bandages before the two carried him to Ron’s room. Molly kicked at the door with a huff.  
  
Instantly it was ripped open. She stepped by her son, walked in front of Harry who had begun to stand up from his camp bed, and past Hermione, who was fluffing Ron’s pillows. Hermione stepped back and helped them lay Draco down gently on her son’s bed, wrapping him a blanket.  
  
Molly straightened. “I’ll get you a camp-bed as well,” she told Ron, “but he needs his rest and-”  
  
“Ron can use mine.” Harry crawled into bed next to Draco, shoving the boy over slightly. He wrapped an arm around the boy’s middle and lay his head in the crook of Draco’s neck, closing his eyes.  
  
Molly looked over at Ron. “I’ll get you a camp bed anyway,” she said softly.  
  
He nodded, staring at the two boys in his bed.  
  
She glanced at Narcissa and the two of them left the room.  
  
…  
  
Draco’s entire body felt like cement. Or maybe like someone had filled his body with copper and was continuously applying a steady flow of electricity through it. Not enough to cause extreme pain, but enough that he just wanted it to go away.  
  
His stomach felt heavier than normal. Whoever had dumped copper in him had added a little too much in a line leading sideways down his stomach and ending at his opposite hip.  
  
Snape’s face filled his mind and Draco took a sharp breath in. He must’ve passed out again. Aunt Bella was waking him up and he would have to close Voldemort down again and again and-  
  
_No._  
  
Snape’s face vanished and his mother’s soft voice replaced it. Knocking on his mind’s door. Him allowing her in. Her leaving.  
Then-  
  
_Harry._  
  
The weight on his stomach shifted and Draco realized it wasn’t him being heavy but an arm. Somebody else’s bloody arm because he could feel his two laying on each side of his body like he was a fucking corpse to be sent off to the morgue. A hand gently cupped his face and Draco leaned into it, eyes still closed.  
  
It was callused, from years of gripping broom handles and sliding over the wood of his wand. Wider than his own, but also smaller. The fingers drifted over his ear, tangling in the short of his hair.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Draco had to hold his breath to keep from sobbing at that voice. He opened his eyes slowly, face instantly full of Harry, Harry-  
  
The idiot was leaning over the right of his body, left arm trapped under his own body. His right hand was steady against Draco’s left cheek, and he was so close to Draco’s face the blonde could hardly breathe. Their noses brushed as Harry pressed a soft kiss against his lips. He swallowed, tears leaking down the sides of his face.  
  
“I’m out,” he whispered.  
  
“You’re out,” Harry responded, moving so he could kiss his right cheek. Left. Forehead. Nose. “You’re safe.”  
  
Slowly, Draco managed to lift his left arm. He cursed as it fell back down and bit his lip, working to bring it back up. Harry seemed to get the idea and suddenly his left hand was no longer on Draco’s cheek, but gently lifting his hand and pressing it against his own face. He held it up against himself and pressed a kiss to the palm.  
  
“How… ” Draco’s voice trailed off. “How much do you know?”  
  
Harry’s face darkened, but he pressed another kiss to Draco’s palm. “20 hours and 15 minutes. They took turns.” He met Draco’s eyes and the Slytherin could’ve sobbed, sobbed at the green sparkling orbs he had wondered if he would ever see again. “I was Voldemort for a part of it.”  
  
Draco stiffened. “Oh.”  
  
“You…” Harry's voice broke. “You are the strongest person I have ever known.”  
  
“Well, of course.”  
  
Harry laughed, throwing his legs over so Draco was trapped beneath him, and letting his left-hand drop-down so he could place a hand on either side of Draco’s head. He knelt down, push-up style and kissed Draco full on the mouth. Draco kissed him back, opening his mouth just enough that Harry’s tongue could dart in. He hissed as he tried to bend into it and Harry pulled away.  
  
“Are you-”  
  
“Get the fuck back over here and kiss me,” he snarled. Harry smirked and pressed their lips together again, slower this time.  
  
“I,” he gasped between each kiss, “was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to hear your sarcastic voice again.”  
  
Draco wanted to pull him in deeper but the stupid copper held him in place. He let out a tiny whimper and Harry came back down, tongue massaging his own.  
  
“That I wasn’t going to be able to see your hot ass complaining about bloody everything.”  
  
“I am quite hot, aren’t I?” Draco whispered against his boyfriend’s mouth with a soft grin.  
  
Harry pulled up and Draco started at the tears in his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered. It took an enormous amount of effort, but he managed to pull his arm up and place it on Harry’s face, wiping away a single tear that dared to crawl down his boyfriend’s face. “You saved me. Bloody hero complex.”  
  
Harry croaked a laugh and Draco felt tears resume down his own face.  
  
The idiot leaned down and kissed the sides of his eyes, wiping away the tears for him. “We shouldn’t be crying,” Harry whispered. “You’re safe.”  
  
“You started it.”  
  
The smile that lit up Harry’s face was so sweet, Draco let out a full-on sob. Harry leaned down, and with all the sweetness in the world, kissed his forehead. Draco couldn’t help the second sob that wracked his body, couldn’t stop the trembling.  
  
“I love you,” Harry whispered into his ear, before kissing the skin beside it. “I love you so much. I love how your hair is so blond it glows in the dark. I love how you never seem to tan, no matter how long we spend out in the sun. I love how when you blush-” Draco did so as he spoke- “your entire face goes red and how it even creeps down your neck.” He leaned down and kissed the neck, which, Draco was sure, was bright pink. “I love the way you’re the only one who can challenge me at Quidditch. I love who you never answer any bloody question seriously-”  
  
“I have no idea what you mean,” Draco said innocently, a tone that was greatly diminished by the sobs breaking apart every word he spoke.  
  
Harry kissed him again. “I love how sarcastic you are about everything. I love the way your eyes sparkle when you come up with a prank. I love the way you shake when you hide your laughter, and I love it more when you break and just let yourself laugh.” He kissed each cheek and his mouth again, and Draco felt his smile against his lips. “I love every part of you, Ferret.”  
  
Draco choked at that last word. “I was going to thank you, but nevermind. Fuck you very much.”  
  
“Can’t,” Harry said with a grin. “In Ron’s bed. Besides, you can’t move.” His eyes darkened again and Draco shrugged, an awkward movement while lying down.  
  
“I’ll heal,” he promised both himself and the boy above him. “Quickly. I always heal quickly from the Cruciatus Curse.”  
  
Harry’s eyes darkened further and Draco winced. “Why are we in Ron’s bed?” He asked, changing the subject.  
  
“For sleeping purposes,” Harry replied. Draco stuck his tongue out at him and Harry actually took the thing between his teeth and grinned at the expression on his face.  
  
“Feend!”  
  
Harry dropped his tongue, gloriously innocent. “Sorry?”  
  
“Fiend,” Draco teased. “I’ll never understand why I’m in love with you.”  
  
Harry kissed him again.  
  
“Nevermind,” Draco muttered. “Can you um…” Harry met his eyes and Draco swallowed against his pride. “Can you sit me up?”  
  
Understanding filled Harry’s eyes and instantly he moved from on top of Draco and leaned him against the wall so his feet just peeked over the edge of the bed. He sat next to him and Draco managed to shift his body just enough for his head to fall on Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“This is real right?” Draco asked, suddenly unsure. “You’re here?”  
  
Harry kissed the top of his head. “I’m here.”  
  
Reminders of his mom’s voice cut its way through him. Draco swallowed. “You’re not leaving?”  
  
“Never,” Harry whispered into his hair. “Not unless you tell me too. And even then, I’ll leave kicking and screaming.”  
  
Draco fell deeper into Harry’s shoulder and the boy wound his arm around him. “You’re safe,” Harry muttered. “And I love you.”  
  
“I love you more.”  
  
“Impossible.”  
  
“I’m taller than you, so my capacity for love is greater than yours.”  
  
“Bullshit.” Harry laughed and the sound alone had Draco tearing up again. He held his tears in. It was ridiculous how many times he had cried already today; he was safe, he was out, and not only that but he knew where the Horcruxes were. They could bring Voldemort down.  
  
Wait.  
  
_He knew where the Horcruxes were._  
  
“Harry!” he said suddenly. “I went in his mind!”  
  
“What?” Harry pulled his head up from Draco’s and held the boy away from him so they could meet eyes. “What do you mean?”  
  
Excitement flew through him in waves, driving away from the lingering pain. “I trapped him in my mind and I used his spell to enter his head,” Draco explained, head falling forward as his neck gave up in supporting it. Harry caught it and held him up so he could meet his eyes. “I saw where he hid the Horcruxes!” A smile lit up his face and he couldn’t help the way he shook in pure joy. “I know where they are!”  
  
Harry shook his head. “Only you,” he whispered, “could manage that.”  
  
“Well, I’m very impressive."


End file.
